Freedom
by Christi Talmer
Summary: R for semi-graphic descriptors. Songfic to the song 'My Last Breath' by Evanescence. Dying on a battlefield, Hermione Granger recounts a few of the moments in her life with someone important to her. A 'Guess the Pairing' songfic.


::disclaimer::

harry potter and all related insignia are the property of j.k. rowling and time warner. if i owned them, i would ogle them all day and have no time for writing, so i suppose it's just as well. i am making no money off of this, otherwise i would go buy a plane ticket to britain and kidnap tom felton & alan rickman. i might do that anyway. 'my last breath' is the property of evanescence/zombies ate my publishing.

_So this is what dying feels like._

It was odd, really, how calm she felt about the situation. Lying here, life seeping out of her onto the cold ground. This was supposed to be the final battle, the fight that would end the war. Well, it had ended the war...at least for her. Voices surrounded her--shouted spells, pained screams--but all of it was muted. Nothing was quite as _alive_ as it should have been. Even the blood she saw on her fingers wasn't the crimson liquor it should have been. To Hermione's eyes, it looked rather grey. Tiring, she let her hand drop and stared at the sky. It looked quite grey and listless as well; clouds roiled above, but they were really too far away and blurry to distinguish any real pattern. Pity. It was getting boring, lying here like this. 

She wondered when she was going to die. 

She wondered if anyone was winning. 

She wondered if anyone was going to mourn her when she was gone. 

She wondered if anyone would be left to mourn her.

Bodies were falling all around her. Some were still alive, she could tell, but many were dead. The looks frozen on their faces told Hermione all she needed to know about their deaths; only one spell could stop life so efficiently.

Avada Kedavra.

Luckily, her soul would not be fodder for the curse. She lay so still that she was mistaken for dead, and nearly trod on several times. Even though Hermione couldn't force her facial muscles to scowl, inwardly she fumed.

__

Can't you watch where you're going? It's not everyday I die, you know.

Giving up on the disrespectful warriors, the girl--_am I still that young? I feel decades older_--decided to simply watch. A familiar face passed her by, and her body twitched in surprise.

"Harry?"

At least, 'Harry' is what she tried to say. It came out as a sort of whispered whimper, and the boy crusader continued on his way. Disgruntled, Hermione wished that _someone_ would stay and keep her company.

A moment later, she got her wish.

Green light burst into existence a few feet away from her, and for a moment Hermione couldn't see. Another body flew towards her, landing just inches away from her torn chest. Her fingers could almost touch the head, if she just stretched...there. Silky hair curled around her fingers, and she enjoyed the habitual sensation for a moment before looking at her companion. She could see his face, just barely, frozen in that unnatural state she had seen too much.

"They got you, too?"

This time, the words escaped perfectly in a whisper. No answer, but of course she hadn't expected one. She continued to twine her fingers in his hair, and tried for a moment to discern the colour. It looked black, certainly, but could be fire engine red for all the light this battlefield allowed. Sighing happily, Hermione savoured the feeling of familiarity. After all, it had been a while--days? weeks? months?--since _his_ hair had been in her hands. Soft, completely unmanageable, utterly perfect. A yell cut the air and the wounded woman's reverie. Her heart contracted, and for a moment Hermione thought that, perhaps, this was the end. Maybe another dagger-sharp spell had found her body? The voice was slowly becoming clearer, coming closer. Was it a Death Eater seeking sustenance?

__

No, she realized. _It's not death. Not yet._

**__**

hold on to me love

you know I can't stay long

all I wanted to say was I love you and I'm not afraid

can you hear me?

can you feel me in your arms?

"Hermione!"

She knew who it was now. Only one person would abandon the glory of battle for the sake of a single soldier. It was him. The idea of him leaving the one chance for his survival pained her even more, and, had she the strength, she would have told him to go away. As it was, he knelt next to her and looked at her wounds with horror in his eyes.

"Hermione...this is mortal."

"I know."

It felt so comforting to finally be able to say that. 

__

I am going to die.

Lethargy flooded her, and she sighed contentedly. His face contorted with restrained tears. He had always been forced to be strong, always forced to present a seamless front to the world. She had always hated it.

Snapping out of his dread-filled trance, her visitor fished a small bottle out of his pocket. He attempted to break the seal, but Hermione stopped him.

"Don't waste it on me. I'm gone already...give it to someone who can live."

The whisper sounded harsh, even to her own ears, but he nodded and put it away.

"Is there...anything I can do?"

It really was an odd day. She would swear that his voice held a note of fear. She paused for a moment, then voiced her final request.

"Stay with me awhile. I don't want to be alone."

**__**

holding my last breath 

safe inside myself

are all my thoughts of you

sweet raptured light

it ends here tonight

He still knelt there, by her side, though Hermione was sure he was going to get himself killed that way. She would have told him so, but was feeling entirely too tired to play games. Sleep beckoned, but she couldn't succumb to the urge just yet. A memory rose in her mind, and she smiled. Her eyes were already closed, resting against the harsh light of the abused sky.

"Do you remember that afternoon?"

She felt his fists clench, and was confident that he remembered exactly _which_ afternoon she was speaking of.

"Yes," he murmured, his voice shaking slightly.

"It was a beautiful afternoon."

"It was."

It had been snowing. The students remaining at Hogwarts for the winter holidays had fairly leapt out of their beds that morning. After regaining feeling in their feet, everyone (including most of the staff) headed outside to pummel each other with the frozen delight. Hermione had opted to remain inside, where it was warm and dry. Even as a teenaged, moody seventh year, she had never lost her first passion for the library. The book that day had been a collection of Shakespeare's plays; her parents had always been Shakespeare lovers. They had proudly given their daughter the name of an accused adulteress in _A Winter's Tale_, but she had grown to enjoy her forename after reading the entire play. She had been halfway through it for the seventh time when he had come in. He had managed to read half a page over her shoulder before Hermione had noticed him, and smirked when she had jumped.

"Y-yes?"

That smirk had widened then, and she had fought a severe urge to slap him.

"Why aren't you outside with the others?"

__

He always suspected me of being up to something after that first time. Most of the time he was right to be suspicious.

"I'm in the middle of a play."

"Books will still be there tomorrow. Snow, on the other hand, won't. This is the best storm Hogwarts has seen in ages...you wouldn't want to miss it, would you?"

The light, teasing tone had taken her entirely by surprise. This was something wholly new, but, she had to admit, it was a rather pleasant change. He held out his hand gallantly.

"Well?"

__

You only live once, I suppose.

A few minutes later, the pair was walking on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. The yells and laughter of the school were distant and barely audible. Their arms were intertwined now, and Hermione had wondered more than a few times if this was a dream or some prank. He noticed her distant expression.

"I am not toying with you, you know."

Startled, she had looked up at him. Into his eyes. That was her first big mistake; it was impossible to not be captivated by those eyes.

"You'll be leaving soon; I doubt I'll see you this way again."

Her mind had absolutely spun as he spoke.

__

What are you trying to say?

"I'm going to miss you when you're gone."

After that, his meaning had become clear, words ceased to be necessary, and Hermione had made her second big mistake.

**__**

I'll miss the winter

a world of fragile things

look for me in the white forest

hiding in a hollow tree

come find me

"Winter has always been my favourite season," she sighed, in the present once more. It wasn't snowing. There wasn't any laughter; only screams. His head was bowed now, and when he looked back at her Hermione was surprised to see a soft shimmer coating his eyes. Guilt struck her immediately.

"Don't..." she whispered, reaching out and grasping a lock of hair. He closed his eyes then, steeling himself against the liquefied anguish. The internal battle was lost quickly, and a tear slipped down his cheek, cutting a clean trail through the grime and blood. The flood loosed itself in Hermione as well, and the droplets slid softly down the sides of her face and onto the ground.

"Don't cry for me, love. The battle is over...I don't have to hide anymore, don't have to fight anymore, don't have to kill...I'm free. The fight here is almost done, and then you'll be free too. I'll wait for you."

He opened his eyes again, and a choked sob escaped Hermione's throat. He looked so tortured, so agonized in that moment. She gripped his hand tightly, willing him to speak.

"I...you've fought for so much. To not be able to live that, after living through this-"

"I don't care," she interrupted vehemently. "I didn't fight this war for myself. I fought it for everyone who couldn't. Everyone who had died. I fought it for my parents, for Colin, for Ginny...they're waiting for me. I swear I will wait for you."

"Hermione...I can't-"

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the green light begin again. Her view became slower, and she screamed. Just because she was dead didn't mean that he must come with her...

**__**

I know you hear me

I can taste it in your tears

closing your eyes to disappear

you pray your dreams will leave you here

but still you wake and know the truth

no one's there

She had been too late, of course. The powerful hate of that spell soared through him and into her; their hands burned, but her body refused to let go. That was the only part that hurt. Relief ran through her veins along with the death curse. It was truly over now. He had fallen forward, onto her stomach.

"Love...?" Hermione whispered, calling to him. It didn't matter who went first, since they were both knocking at that door called Death. Using the last piece of her strength, she brought her free hand to rest on his head, curling raven strands into her fingers. He was gone. She would follow quickly, and peace touched her brow. Neither one of them would be alone anymore. They did not have to fight, did not have to hide. They were _both_ free now.

"Free...we're free, Sev, finally," she sighed. Her fingers wove into his hair, and she gazed at the sky. 

"Love you..."

Her final breath spent, Hermione closed her eyes and let her spirit drift away. The last thing she saw was a pair of impossibly black eyes looking into her own. The last thing she felt was a soft pair of lips brushing her own, claiming the last of their warmth. The last thing she heard...

"Love you...too..."

**__**

say goodnight

don't be afraid

calling me as you fade to black

::author note::

Well. Another chocolate-fic...I definitely need some. Please review before you race to the store to buy some, though; it's a depressing fic, but don't you have a _good_ depressed feeling? Give me a good, elated feeling by reviewing.


End file.
